Lives Can't Be Rewritten
by ThinkingClouds
Summary: LIFE IS A GAME SEQUEL. Jonathan Morgenstern's life was thought to be over, sentenced to prison for the remainder of it. Although, during his time, there is once thing he looks forward to; the constant visits from a certain Isabelle Lightwood. Also, Clary struggles to maintain a grasp on reality as she's haunted by nightmares. But what can Jace do? CLARY/JACE ISABELLE/JONATHAN M.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! **

**Any 'Life is a Game' readers reading this, thank you for you continued support, loving it. Any new readers, you can go ahead and read this without reading Life is a Game, but I would suggest reading it. **

**There are a few things I want to mention. There's been a change in POV, I'm writing this story in third person because I had a feeling if I did first person in Isabelle's POV, she would end up sounding more like Clary from the first fanfic. Also, as most of you guys probs know, this follows Isabelle/Jonathan (A lil bit of Simon/Isabelle) and Clary/Jace, I mention whose scene it is at the beginning of their part. I wasn't sure about doing that, but hey, I'm going to.**

**And I had a lot of trouble figuring out the name for this. I came up with a lot, but I decided to go with Lives Can't Be rewritten. I think it suits it, but still, tell me what you think. And this story won't be as serious as Life is a Game, it'll still hold a bit of seriousness, but not major.**

**Other than that, excuse any possible mistakes, and enjoy. **

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

_**Alicante**_

_**Isabelle and Jonathan**_

What she expected to gain from this, she didn't know. For him to feel remorse? Shame? Perhaps for him to take pity on her?

_No, _Isabelle Lightwood told herself, silencing the theories that travelled through her mind.

She didn't want his pity. And she sure as hell did not want his apologies, no matter how many he would give.

_If he would ever think of asking for forgiveness._

Once again, Isabelle told her mind to shut it. Even if he did manage to conjure up whatever light was left inside him to ask for it, she wouldn't forgive. He had taken a life. A life of someone who she loved. And that someone was none other than her little brother. Taking him from the world, from her, she would never forgive such a malicious act. Never.

Although, with these thoughts and commitments, these constant visits had yet come to a cease. Another question which she didn't ponder alone, but him also. But, as much as he found it difficult to believe, he had succumbed to the thought of enjoying the visits.

Not because of the pain and hatred he remained to witness in Isabelle's eyes. Not for the continuation of her pressuring of 'why?'. The reason was still blind to him, refusing to show itself.

_He_ was, in fact, Jonathan Morgenstern.

And ever since Isabelle's first appearance in his cell a few weeks ago, he had begun seeing her more frequently.

But whether this was thought to be good or bad, none of them knew.

"You're looking lovely today, Isabelle," Jonathan spoke from his usual spot on the stone bench, which acted as a bed in his cell.

His statement however, was not what one might think it would mean. Lovely would be referred to 'beautiful', and 'pretty'. But Isabelle looked anything but _lovely_. Especially once she noticed a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Today, she appeared dangerously deadly. And not meant as in smoking hot, sexy deadly. It was a sorely I-will-not-hesitate-to-rip-your-throat-and-organs-out look. Perhaps slightly exaggerated, but the point was clear: Isabelle Lightwood was not to be messed with.

But, of course, she was in a cell, _alone_, with Jonathan Morgenstern. And he was the only person that would think of taunting her when she was, as he put it, pissed.

Isabelle didn't reply to his remark. Instead, she moved her gaze upwards just a fragment. From her seat on the stone ground, her eyes met his, her anger and annoyance slicing through him.

He hardly felt it.

Smirking to himself as her eyes travelled downwards to their previous position, Jonathan couldn't help it but almost laugh at her reaction. She hadn't even spoke two words since she arrived. The guard had let her in, and the first act she did was sit on the ground, her back pressed against the wall, gazing downwards.

Instantly, Jonathan had expected her silence to rapidly change into an outburst of anger, which he had no experience with. Yet. And whether that was thought to be fortunate or not was unclear. But today, she had said nothing.

She was lost within her thoughts.

And the idea that they would become understandable upon coming here, was stupid to believe. If anything, these made her mind more jumbled.

Suddenly, to Jonathan's surprise, Isabelle sprung to her feet and begun pacing around the room. Hoping he didn't do anything to annoy her this time -well, what hadn't he done?- he allowed himself to drift away, his back now pressed against the ice cold stone.

"Is this going to be become a habit of yours, or not?" his slightly deep voice pondered, his gaze never leaving her striding figure.

Once again, she gave no response. There was no faltering in her movement. So, for now, Jonathan stayed silent.

Although he believed he felt some empathy towards her, even allowing himself to show it at the warehouse no more than a month ago, there was no possible means to understanding Isabelle Lightwood.

But watching her behaving like this, much unlike herself, Jonathan did feel something. He felt a sudden rush of worry capturing his mind. This time, however, it was different. He had felt worry a number of times before, despite the confidence and arrogance he had no control over, that came with other guy. Or so he wanted to believe.

He always had a small part of worry inside him. When Valentine sent him to see his sister, when his sister showed hatred towards him, when those shadowhunters came face-to-face with him and his father in the warehouse.

He'd worried when Clary was left inside with only Valentine. Although that was different to the other incidents. Yet it was the same to what he was experiencing at the present moment.

The difference: he wasn't worried about himself.

Of course, he wasn't certain Isabelle wouldn't unexpectedly start screaming at him. But how she was acting made him worry.

"Isabelle?" he dared to speak, watching her still moving body. Any hopes -if hope was possible to him- of a response was crushed into the stone floor.

Feeling a slight annoyance, he pressed, "what's wrong?"

A typical question. One that happened to gain an answer.

"Nothing," she retorted, her voice sounding exhausted and scratching.

Resisting the urge to groan and release his anger, Jonathan simply said, "don't try to fool me."

Then he got the reaction he wanted. Her pacing stopped, her heels turning sharply so she faced him. "What do you care?" she snapped.

He shrugged, "Who says I do?"

Jonathan watched as her eyes narrowed, her jaw lightly clenching. "You asked me," she stated, leaning forwards.

Despite the gap between them wasn't small, Jonathan still leaned towards her. "And are you going to answer?"

Isabelle breathed in deeply, obviously holding and controlling her anger. "Forget it," she said softly, moving back towards to the door to his cell, "I don't have a reason to be here."

She was about to call to the guard, who always happened to know when she was leaving, when a his voice spoke behind her. His breath close enough to brush her neck.

"Don't you," he said, taunting her, "Is the memory of a small boy not enough?"

As soon as the words were spoken, Isabelle felt ice take her body. Her anger wasn't of fire, it was of ice, a frozen blizzard. She spun around. Jonathan was no longer sitting, yet he stood less than a step behind her. He'd moved without a slightest sound. And although she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, she couldn't help but be blinded by her anger and their darkness.

At first, she wanted to scream at him, to yell every single emotion out of her body, to make him feel the hurt that was now flooding her veins. But she couldn't, the memory of her younger brother made it almost impossible to act.

"Don't mention him," she managed to get out. Her voice was full of poison and a burning cold with what she said next. "You are a monster, there's something sick and twisted inside of you. You don't deserve life, but you took his. And that's something that can never change."

And then she was gone. The guard knowing once again when she wanted leave, the stone door returning to it's place.

Feeling the usual cocoon of loneliness and cold retake the cell, Jonathan moved slowly to collapse on the cold floor, staring at the dull, old stone surrounding him.

"And yet you keep coming back," he said although Isabelle could no longer hear his voice.

He spends days in this room, days alone without anything to take his mind off it. He could only wonder about things. He could wonder why.

* * *

_**New York**_

_**Clary and Jace**_

Saying she was exhausted was an understatement. All the healing runes in the world could not forced away the fatigue that plagued Clary. Being a shadowhunter, she was used to. Searching for and hunting demons, she was used to. Using her body to beyond the point of destruction, she wasn't use to that.

"You're annoyed, aren't you?" Jace asked beside her.

They were walking through the corridors of the Institute, heading towards their rooms. Clary assumed from the silence and the darkness, and the amount of time they'd spent demon hunting, it was past early morning.

"Just a little," she replied, concentrating on moving forward. They finally turned down her hall, her eyes landing on her room door.

"It wasn't that bad," she heard him say when they reached her door.

She stopped then, turning to look up at him. "Jace," she said, "You made me run half of Manhattan, just for one Imp demon."

"That Imp was asking for it," Jace defended.

Clary frowned softly. She found that difficult to believe. But then again, it was Jace, he could make anything reasonable if he only a reason for it. Though pondering on his words, that was unbelievable this time. "How?"

"You didn't see that smug look on his face," he shrugged.

Instantly her shoulders slumped. Her legs were dead because her boyfriend couldn't deal with one, _one, _Imp demon getting away simply because it provoked him. Sure, when Clary finally caught up to Jace, the demon was beyond decapitated. But if it was a swarm of Imps, that would've been more understandable. And she might have felt better, not tired and half dead. Not to mention annoyed.

Seeing the expression on Clary's face, Jace immediately regretted saying something like that.

"To make up for it, I'll come with you to your mother's tomorrow," he suggested, raising an eyebrow In question. And once he saw Clary's face light up, he knew he was forgiven.

"Seriously?" she asked. Clary did love her mother, and Luke, but feeling like this, and probably feeling worse in the morning, she didn't feel like handling family at the moment, or tomorrow.

"Sure."

A smile crept onto her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning forward on placing a kiss on his cheek, much to his disappointment.

"And that is why I love you."

Jace pulled away, a frown forming on his face, "I thought it was because I just ran half of Manhattan without being out of breath."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Clary scoffed and moved away from him, turning towards her door. But before she could even reach for the doorknob, Jace's hand latched onto her arm, spinning her back around, his other arm slipping her waist and pulling her body closer to his.

Without even a question forming in her mind, Jace crashed his lips against hers, his hand tangled in her hair. Clary couldn't do anything but melt into him as his mouth moved against hers. Suddenly, all the fatigue she had felt vanished, vaporising into the air.

This kisses didn't last as long as she wanted, Jace parting their lips by pulling back. Clary's eyes still closed, stunned from what just happened. When they finally opened, Jace were merely an inch away from her, his breath managing to tickle her nose.

"Still tired?" he asked softly. When she looked into his eyes, she knew what he was indicating.

_Not going to be that easy, _Clary thought as a cheeky smile formed on her face.

"Yep," she answered, moving away and into her room, closing the door before Jace even realised. She couldn't help but grin to herself as she leant against her door, hearing Jace curse under his breath followed by a slight chuckle, before his footsteps moved further down the hall.

Despite the longing feeling her body held, she knew it was for the best. She would actually be able to sleep tonight.

* * *

**Remember, review/fav/follow. I love feedback!**

**XD**


	2. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

_**New York**_

_**Isabelle and Jonathan**_

Honestly, Isabelle had no explanation as to how she was acting yesterday. And realising that she went there to try and conjure up a reason was beyond understanding. What was wrong with her? Why did she keep visiting him?

Not to mention what happened last night. The shivers that went crawling up her spine when she thought she saw him, his black eyes somehow illuminated within the darkness. Watching her. She assumed she had been dreaming but when she woke this morning, her skin still felt like it was crawling.

But when she thought of Jonathan, all she could see was Max. Maybe that was her reason.

Perhaps she was doing it for herself rather than for him. After all, he was so young. He hadn't even made it to his tenth birthday. Made it? It seemed like he was fighting, that he knew what was happening and yet couldn't hold on any longer. But he didn't. He didn't know.

Isabelle, with those thoughts clouding her mind, shook her head. She didn't want to feel this. This hurt that dug away at her chest. She often wondered if the rest of her family felt it. If they did they didn't show it, and neither did she.

Maybe this is her way of ridding herself of the pain. To know the type of person who did it, to _try _and understand why. To gain closure from accepting why Jonathan did it.

Why did he?

_Because he's a monster_, Isabelle told herself. Once again, repeating the only thing she can think of that's acceptable to answer such a question.

But at the same time, she can't force that feeling inside of her away. That she can't help thinking there's something behind that monster. Someone that's worth listening to, someone worth understanding. She can't help but feel that there's more to it, that there's more to him.

Although she couldn't ponder on this any more. She was meeting with Simon today, surely she could push these thoughts away.

Isabelle was wrong. She was completely wrong.

As much as she attempted to force one part of her mind aside and focus on the current events happening around her, she couldn't find herself able to accomplish it. Even despite how cute she thought Simon was rambling on about anything that came to mind, her thoughts still drifted to Jonathan.

The memory of last night wouldn't stop troubling her mind. All she wanted was to sleep, to rid her mind of everything, not to feel the trail of someone's hand across her skin, grazing her upper arm and neck. Isabelle couldn't shake the thought that she had heard someone was whispering to her that night.

And when she saw those eyes in her room, she was sure it was Jonathan. But Isabelle knew it could have never been him. He was in prison and she was dreaming. So did it feel so real?

Of course, it was sort of bad that while with her boyfriend Isabelle was thinking of another man. But it didn't matter when she despised him. Although, she didn't have a clear reason as to her continuation of visits. So what did that mean?

"I missed you yesterday," Simon said, his ramblings coming to a stop, gaining Isabelle's attention. Immediately her thoughts of that uncomfortable feeling she felt last night scattered.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she apologised as she meet his eyes, "I was busy."

"With what?" he casually questioned.

Isabelle looked up at him, a sudden rush of worry clouding her mind. What would she say? What should she say? Tell him the truth, that she's been seeing the man who took her brother's life in prison?

No one knew where Isabelle disappeared to. No one. And they had good reasons not to know. Alec, he wouldn't question it but he would he hurt, not that he ever realises she's gone because he's at Magnus' place twenty-four seven. Maryse wouldn't be able to bear the news, she'd handle it worse then Isabelle's father did, who knew she still went to Alicante to see Jonathan. He didn't like the idea but he allowed it to continue, for her sake only.

Jace, he'd definitely hide whatever anger or sadness he felt, perhaps even betrayal, and let it out in whatever way he sought fit. As for Clary, her feelings towards her brother were unclear to anyone.

And that left Simon. It would hurt him. Whether or not he'd be understanding, Isabelle didn't know. But she couldn't risk the idea of having Simon out of her life. It didn't feel right.

So Isabelle made a decision, taking a moment before she shrugged. "Shadowhunter stuff," she told him simply, feeling a slight cringe in her chest as she did so.

Though she felt her eyes drifting to her hands that were currently fiddling with her rings. They didn't move for a long while.

* * *

_**Clary and Jace**_

Clary didn't completely know if she was dreaming or not. She remembered climbing into bed last night, she remembered drifting off to sleep. So she naturally assumed it was all a dream. The only time she started to second guess herself was when the old thin floorboards began to creak underneath her steps, when she felt the musty old air being breathed in.

Wherever she was, the place had clearly not been touched for some time. The wooden flooring appeared on the verge of crumbling away, a thick layer of dust taking refuge on the floor as no other surfaces were nearby. The place was empty.

And at the sight of multiple plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling, surrounding her, Clary determined there must have been some type of construction taking place. Obviously long abandoned.

Clary resisted the urge to call out. Who would she call out to? There didn't appear to be anybody else nearby, and even if there was, she wasn't certain if she wanted to attract their attention. But before she could think of another plan, there was something standing before her.

More like someone. The shadows in the building didn't seem to affect the person, a faint light struggling but succeeding in surrounding them. Only a thin sheet of plastic separating the two of them.

Clary could've ran and left whoever it was, whatever danger might be in front of her. But she felt the need to stay, the need to reach out and pull the sheeting in front of her away. And that's what she did, her hand not even trembling, surprising herself.

She wasted not a second longer before pushing the sheet out of the way. The person was in fact a man, his back to her as his black robe reached to the ground. His head was slumped forward, offering only a bit of pale hair for Clary to see.

Cautiously, she moved forward, one foot in front of the other, until she was in front of the man. Immediately she forced the gasp forming on her lips back. Standing before her was Jonathan. Her brother. The boy who should be in prison, so why was he here?

She was surely dreaming.

Whatever Clary was thinking though came to a stop when she heard Jonathan's intake of breath, it was shallow and quiet, like a child that had been sobbing. It sounded like he'd been... crying.

Clary froze when he lifted his head up. There was in fact tears staining her cheeks, tears threatening to spill over his...

Eyes. As green as fresh spring grass.

Suddenly, Clary wanted to step away, go back to the Institute, wake up. Either one, she didn't care. The sight before her brought pain and hurt. Her brother, her real brother, without the denom that took hold of him, without the darkness tearing at his heart.

"Help me, Clary," his voice rasped.

More tears reached his eyes as his winced in pain. On instincts, Clary looked her brother up and down, checking for wounds or any sign of injury. But there were none. He looked completely intact. So why was he hurting? He gasped as he doubled over in agony, his hand gripping his knees as he forced himself to stay standing. But Clary noticed that all he wanted to do was collapse and let it be over, whatever it was. But she knew her true brother, he believed himself stronger than that.

"What is it, Jon?" she asked worriedly, panic starting to rise inside of her. Upon receiving no answer, Clary went to repeat her question but broke off when Jonathan raised his head to look her in the eyes.

And that's when she saw what was wrong. It _was_ his eyes. The agony he felt, it was him trying to hold on. It hurt her to watch it. It hurt to see the bright green in his eyes be taken over by darkness, by the black that once lived there. Jonathan tried to control his breathing, but it was impossible. There was something evil clawing inside of him. And it hurt.

Hearing him growl in torture, Clary finally woke up from her frozen state, rushing forward and trying to hold Jonathan up as his legs began to buckled beneath him.

"Clary, I'm sorry," he wheezed softly as his knees hit the ground.

Clary looked him in his eyes, a pained expression forming on her face, her own tears building up behind her eyes. "Sorry for what?" she questioned.

"I'm sorry," he repeated as if he couldn't hear anything she was saying. "Help me," he said, his body no longer willing to hold him as he slumped against her, burying his head in her shoulder.

She could feel his short intakes of breath. Clary was unsure if his hiccuping was from the pain or the sobbing. Whatever the reason, they were becoming weaker by the second. Until they stopped. Clary's heart jumped as she thought her brother's heart had given up. But relief instantly filled her when she heard him breathe in again, more steady this time.

Clary pushed him away from her slightly, just so she could look into his eyes. "Jon?" she began to ask but her tongue dried upon what she saw.

His pupils were black, glistening in the whatever light surrounded them, staring off into the distant. It was almost as if the body was lifeless. But it wasn't until that his eyes began to slowly moved to her. His eyes stared into hers, as if burrowing into her soul.

That's when Clary realised she should've ran when she had the chance.

In a split second, Jonathan had lunged forward, wrapping his hands around Clary's neck, his nails digging into her skin, as the the force knocked her backwards.

* * *

A gasp broke the silence as Clary jolted up into a sitting position. But upon realising she remained in the recognisable atmosphere of her room, not the strange dark construction building, she attempted to control her unsteady breaths.

So she had been dreaming, just like she originally assumed. If only she hadn't second-guessed her first thoughts, she wouldn't have panicked so much. But that was the things about dreams, they're never meant to give away what's reality and what's not.

Trying to get her heart rate down, Clary ran fingers through her hair and breathed deep. Leaning forward onto her palms, her mind still spun of what she dreamt. Jonathan's raspy voice repeating, _'Help me'_. What was the meaning of that?

Clary shook her head, discarding her thoughts, it was only a dream, it held no meaning.

Out of nowhere, Clary's bedroom door creaked open, resulting in her letting out a startled scream. But when saw a more than familiar face step into her room, she forced herself to relax.

"Ouch," exclaimed Jace, "I didn't think I had that affect on women."

As usual, Clary looked up from having her head in her hands and shot Jace a glare, the memory of her dream completely faded. He simply laughed with a smug grin and moved to the other side of her bed, sitting beside her.

"I didn't think you'd be awake yet," said Jace.

"Then why were you sneaking into my room?" she wondered, turning her head to look at him through her curls, and as if it was a habit, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Wanted to surprise you," he told her simply.

"How?" she inquired, frowning slightly.

"By having you wake up next to me." he said, with a face that said _'isn't is obvious?'_.

Jace succeed in earning himself a laugh from her. "You so full of it," Clary leant back against the bed head.

"Of course I am," he explained, "don't you recall what happened last night?"

"You mean when you were turned down?" Clary grinned at him.

"Clary, I was not turned down," he corrected her, "I was crushed. I had been thrown to the ground and squashed under a boot."

"By a five foot two readhead?"

Jace shrugged, "she packs a punch."

Clary pursed her lips and nodded. "Sympathy didn't work so your going for flattering now?" she asked.

"Depends," he smiled his signature heart-melting smile. "Is it working."

"Might be."

Clary couldn't help but smiled as he moved over her, complimenting her between kisses. His lips trailed down her collarbone, his breath continuing to graze her skin as she wound her fingers into his hair.

However when her hands reached the hem of his shirt and attempted to remove it, what began so quickly, ended just as fast. In one quick move, Jace had rolled off her. Leaving her quite flustered, he made his way to the door, fixing his hair and shirt.

"That is so unfair," she claimed as he swung her door open.

Before stepping in the hall, he sent her a grin over his shoulder. "Payback's a bitch," he said, slipping into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Clary flopped her head back into her pillow and let out a long sigh. She supposed she had deserved that.

* * *

Once again, Jonathan found himself sitting in front of a silent Isabelle, her arms crossed as she stared at him, a calculating expression on her face. And honestly, the silent treatment, or whatever it was, was getting on his last nerves.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time and say nothing?" he finally snapped at her.

Isabelle look taken aback by his sudden outburst, which only angered him more. "Your the one visiting me. I'm not the one that has to make conversation," he told her.

"Your right."

Now he was the one taken back. That surprised Jonathan more than anything. Not that Isabelle so easily agreed with him, let alone admitting he was right, but the fact that she didn't retort something back. She didn't snap or anything. Which he hardly considered normal Isabelle behaviour. This appeared alien to him.

Shocking him even more, Isabelle moved to his cell door, thumping her hand against stone, a signal that the guard on the other side could only just hear.

"I was just wondering," she said.

"Wondering what?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Eventually, Isabelle turned to him, looking almost as if she was searching his eyes for something. "Why your still here," she said to him as the stone door groaned against the ground as it slid opened.

"It's not like I can leave," Jonathan told her, causing her to cast look over her shoulder one more time before Isabelle left.

But despite the annoyance he felt towards her at that time, Jonathan couldn't force the sly grin on his face away as the stone door sealed off his cell, leaving him on his own.

Isabelle had no idea.

* * *

**So it's here. I finally did it.**

**Thanks to the guys that gave me suggestions, really appreciated it. They gave that kick to start writing again, cause you know, new ideas gets the brain buzzing.**

**So more suggestions and ideas, I love them, they're awesome.**

**Tell me what you think or what you think may happen.**

**Remember to Review/Fav/Follow**

**-ThinkingClouds**


	3. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

_**New York Institute**_

_**Isabelle and Jonathan**_

"Izzy!"

At the sound of her name, Isabelle slowed her striding steps. Hearing her brother's voice call to her, she knew she should've come to a stop since she'd hardly seen him in the last month or so. And it cost her nothing to admit to herself that a part of her wished that he still hung around in the Institute as much as he did in Magnus' place downtown.

She missed him, but a lot of things were keeping her mind occupied. Well, to be exact, one thing.

"Isabelle," Alec said once again, finally walking beside her, but failing in catching her attention. "Would you just wait for a minute," he laughed softly as he held his hand out, preventing her feet from moving forwards.

Suddenly stopped moving, Isabelle allowed herself to breath in deep, calming her body from the vigorous walking she had done just moments ago. Her mind paused it's run, she focused on her brother, a sight that immediately made her relax.

"Sorry," apologised Isabelle, "what's up?"

Once again, Alec let out a short, yet a bit loud, laugh as his sister's sudden change. He wasn't unfamiliar to her sudden mood swings and fiery, snapping temper, but it still managed to be humorous to him. Sometimes.

"I just wanted to see how you were," he informed her, his tone abruptly becoming quite serious. "I was worried about you."

Isabelle, despite knowing exactly what Alec was worried about, simply shrugged, "well I'm fine."

"I was looking for you all day, where were you?" he asked.

"With Simon," Isabelle quickly replied, the answer itself being a lie. That she shouldn't have done. Seeing Alec's face, she knew she'd made a mistake by saying that.

"Really?" he questioned. "Cause I called him before," he said, "looking for you. And if I remember, he told me he hadn't seen you all day. For the last few days to be precise."

Isabelle groaned and threw her hands up. "Fine," she exclaimed, "I was out hunting." And just to ensure it was believable, she added, "with Jace."

Another lie.

Caught out.

"Iz, I just interrupted him and Clary making out. In the library," Alec told her. Although she wasn't as surprised as he was. Them making out happened a lot. Already she'd caught them twice and she'd seen Jace leave Clary's room a number of times in the morning, with a boyish grin plastered on his face of course. Maryse and Isabelle had both come to the realisation that they were in the honeymoon phase.

"Well," she quickly planned another cover-up in her head, "we got back not that long ago. They probably missed each other."

Alec's eyes narrowed at his younger sister and she knew this wasn't exactly going in her favour, it was anything but that. "Then why did you lie before?"

She breathed in deep, allowing herself the time to rapidly put together another lie. There was no way she was going to tell him, or anyone, why and where she'd been disappearing too. The answer to those questioned were bad alone, but considering how often her family wondered where she was. It's for the best if she doesn't tell them.

"Because I didn't want you to worry," she exasperated, "you said you were worried so I didn't want to worry you more."

After her rather quick answer, Alec was silent for a couple of moments, his mind taking time to process the information or not. And Isabelle felt her heart beat swiftly as her nerves set in. Feeling her hands start to tremble slightly, she held them behind her back. Never had she become nervous so easily, let alone allowed her body to show it.

Did the thought of her family knowing the truth really scare her?

Her breath caught at Alec's next words.

"Your lying," he stated. "I called Jace looking for you, he also said he hadn't seen you since this morning."

Isabelle felt her heart plummet at hearing this. Of course her brother had called Jace, basically her half-brother, in search of her location. How could she had been so stupid to say she was hunting with him.

"And," Alec continued, "don't even try to tell me that you got Jace to be quiet about you hunting because you you didn't want me to worry. You and I both know you can handle yourself around a demon."

"Why do you care?" she butted in before he could go one, failing her arms about. "Why does anyone care where I go!?

"Your my sister, Isabelle! After everything that's happened, of course I care!" Isabelle was shocked at hearing her brother shout back at her. He'd always been the one to control his anger.

"Well how would I know that!?" she retaliated, feelings the frustration burn through her. "You're never here! You've pretty much moved in with Magnus, I never see you."

Those words seemed to silence Alec as he took in what she said. She was right. He hardly slept a night at the Institute, he basically lived with Magnus. They'd even talked and considered moving in together. He was eighteen, he could do what he wanted. He just didn't realise the affect it would have on his family, especially Isabelle.

She'd already lost Max, and blamed herself as well. He couldn't let his baby sister feel as if she's lost him to.

And after the Valentine situation, and the way Jonathan seemed to taunt her when they ended up in each other's proximity. Alec was still surprised she hadn't kill him. He even had a crazy idea that Isabelle might visit him and kill him whilst he was locked up in Alicante. But that seemed ridiculous enough.

"Look, Iz," Alec said.

"Don't worry about it," she grumbled as she brushed past him, still feeling anger and frustration inside of her.

Isabelle couldn't find confidence in her family to tell them the truth. She didn't want the people that cared about her to judge her actions or take pity on her. Everyone around her cared too much to hear all her thoughts. She just wanted someone that would hold the tiniest bit of emotion, enough to understand, to talk to.

There was only one person she could think of who fitted that case.

* * *

_**New York Institute**_

_**Clary/Jace**_

A short laugh escaped Clary's lips as Jace shook his head. "Well that was embarrassing," Clary said, attempting to contain her laughter.

Jace scoffed. "It was Alec, he's walked in on a lot of people making out."

Clary's laughter broke off as she allowed a yawn to escape. And as she did so, Jace finally realised the darkness that had settled beneath her eyes. A tiredness that had yet to subdue over the last few nights, perhaps even worsening.

"Have you been sleeping?" Jace questioned, allowing himself to take her face into his hands, his thumbs trailing beneath her eyes.

"Hardly. Bad dreams," she explained as her eyes softly fell shut, soaking up Jace's touch.

"Here," he said, moving further to the end of the couch and pulling her down to rest against his chest, both his arms encircling her waist.

With her head resting beneath his chin, Clary breathed in deep, listening to Jace's breathing and his steady heartbeat. As the library's fireplace continued to crackle, spreading warmth around them and holding Jace's arms around her, Clary finally realised this was what home feels like.

Not the objects and structures surrounding her, but the person holding her. And feeling nothing but peace, Clary drifted off to sleep, feeling Jace's arms tighten around her. For the first time in days, she finally got a proper sleep.

* * *

_**Alicante**_

_**Isabelle/Jonathan**_

"You came back quite quick," Jonathan stated as he leant against the stone wall of his cell. Upon seeing Isabelle enter after leaving not two hours ago, he smirked, "couldn't stay away?"

"Shut up," she grumbled, moving quickly and taking a seat on he stone bench to his left. She sat there with hands planted firmly in front of her, not saying anything else. Jonathan assumed she was going to sit there in an angry silence again, unlike this morning when they actually had a decent conversation. But once he saw past the irritation written by all her facial features, he noticed the distressed look in her eyes.

Before he could even begin contemplating his next move, Isabelle spoke. More like murmured as her head feel forwards into her hand. "It's all such a mess," she said from behind her loose hair.

Jonathan suddenly felt his limbs go cold by an non-existing sheet of ice. Handling an annoyed Isabelle was okay, fun even. Frustrated Isabelle; easy. He'd just let her sit there in her own little world, despite how much it annoyed him. But this was another situation entirely.

He hesitantly opened his mouth, attempting to say something, before he realised he didn't have the words and it snapped shut. What the hell was he supposed to do with an upset Isabelle? He'd had hardly any time around real people and real emotions. Only Clary, but she was five at the time. He doubted he'd be able to cheer up Isabelle by promising her he'd go catch a butterfly for her.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?

One thing was for sure. Jonathan definitely preferred angry Isabelle over whoever was sitting on that bench. At least then he'd get some reaction from her, even if it was only shouting.

After a long while of silence, he dared to asked, "Are you okay?"

Once the question was asked, Isabelle breathed in deep, finally lifting her head up. "I'm fine," she nodded shakily, placing her hands on either side of her.

Conjuring up everything he knew about human emotions, Jonathan reluctantly asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He watched as she shook his head, "No, it's just family stuff."

At those words, Jonathan felt his inner body wince. He hated when Isabelle mentioned her family since he was the reason why there was one less member. Was what he felt guilt? If so, he inwardly cursed emotions. They were a waste of time, there was no reason for them.

But as much as he knew Isabelle was also trying to deny herself from feeling that way, he could see the truth behind her eyes. It refused to leave her alone. Going against everything his mind told him, Jonathan moved cautiously, preparing for Isabelle to snap at him to stop, over to the bench where Isabelle was, sitting carefully beside her.

She sat unmoving, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of her lungs, but he knew she was well aware that he had moved so close to her. And yet, she didn't show any signs that she wanted to move away.

Slowly and completely uncertain of what he was doing, he reached out for her hand. And when he noticed Isabelle didn't flinch, he took it in his own. It was definitely a strange for him. Feeling the warmth of another's hand enclosed under his send shivers through his body. He felt his fingertips tingle as he entwine their hands.

Eventually, with her body still not moving, her eyes kept straight just like his own, Isabelle asked, "What are you doing?"

He answered with the truth. "I don't know," he said, "Isn't this what humans do, to help another with their pain."

"I thought you weren't human," she told him.

"So did I."

For minutes they sat there in silence, their hands entwined, both not moving an inch. But after a long while, in sync, both turned their heads to look at one another. And as if thinking the same thoughts, they both moved the same way.

Within a second, they quickly shot away from each other, their hands slipping apart as they shuffled to opposite end's on the bench. Isabelle shook and rub her upper arms as if the rid herself of the cold shivers that ran through her body whilst Jonathan rubbed his hands together, trying to remove the tingling feeling.

Jonathan scrunched his face up. "Nah," he said, "it's disgusting. I don't know how humans do it."

Upon hearing what he spoke, and noticing what just happened, Isabelle started to laugh, finding the whole situation hilarious.

It was a sound unexpected. Something that Jonathan had never heard before. But he was grateful for it.

* * *

**So a little bit of Clace there, not sure what to do those guys for now. But there'll be more Iz/Jon to come.**

**Appreciate suggestions, I'm taking a lot into consideration.**

**Remember fav/follow/review**

**:)**


End file.
